People Change and That's OK
by AStarCalledEye
Summary: A story of Draco Malfoy as he tries to find his place in the post war wizarding world. He has returned to Hogwarts determined to take advantage of the opportunity to resit his final year. I try to stay as true to J.K Rowling's characters as possible but know that people change and grow and out of everyone Draco has the biggest hurdles to overcome. I hope you enjoy Draco's journey!
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Notes.** Hi guys. I know I very rarely read authors notes but I wanted to just quickly take a moment and explain at least the direction I want this story to take. My main reason for writing this was that I desperately wanted to read something in which Draco came across as himself. I want a story where you can see the changes in him as the journey goes on not just suddenly Draco is good and wants to be best buddies with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I am all about the Dramione (I'm sorry to those who are not supporters of this coupling but hopefully my story would be able to turn your ideas around not just on Dramione but also on Draco Malfoy as a person) so be prepared for an eventual (I have no idea when!) pairing of Draco and Hermione.

So at this point we are dealing with a boy who has had his entire ideology of life completely turned around. His beliefs are so far beyond those of his family and what he has been taught to perceive as right. He is struggling with isolation and blame from nearly everyone around him including himself. I do not believe that Draco Malfoy was a cold, heartless boy. I do believe that he was weak, confused, a bit stupid and very easily swayed by the people in his life that were meant to guide him in the right direction. So, all in all this story is my perception of how Draco Malfoy may have grown into a person that even Harry Potter would be happy to befriend.

P.S. Obviously everything that you recognize in this story is owed to the amazing J.K. Rowling

**People change and that's OK.**

He had been telling himself this for weeks. It had become his mantra. He had overheard it in the corridor of defense against the dark arts three weeks ago and it had been replaying in his head ever since. People change and that's OK. It was a strange concept to him, to change your mind or change your hair, maybe to change everything? How do you do that? How do you change completely? Does it start small or is it sudden or constant? Do we ever stop changing? Could he change? Maybe he already had? Yes he had. That sentence alone had changed him.

People change and that's OK. He just wished it hadn't taken him so long. A war; It had taken him a war to realize he had to change. To realize he had changed. What once had seemed so right and so solid had very quickly revealed to him the complete opposite. Everything he had been taught and told by his father had been wrong. All the rubbish that Pure-blood society fed their brains had been just that, rubbish. Ever since the moment his father had been imprisoned for the incident in the department of mysteries back in fifth year the change in him had begun. He tried so hard to repress it and every thought of doubt since that moment but by the time the Weasel, a disfigured Potter and Granger had been dragged into his house nearly a year ago his heart had changed. He had changed.

That was the first day he had shown it. He had helped them escape, kept their identities a secret as long as he could and it had felt good but he had wanted to do more. He struggled every night as the memories of Granger's screams flooded his mind. Stood frozen to the spot as he witnessed the monster that was his aunt ruthlessly torture Granger on the floor of his own home. His brain had been running a million miles an hour trying desperately to find a way to make it stop; to make her stop. But he hadn't been quick enough. Potter had. Weasel had. His house elf had, but not him.

There were so many memories he held now that felt pathetic, dirty and painful. Like that night on the train from London, crushing Potters nose under his shoe. What had once been a moment of triumph was now a moment of shame, as he came to the realization that his pleasure came from punishing Potter; for breaking down the farce of morals his father had built for him; for making it so hard for him to fulfill the mission the Dark Lord, Voldemort, no Tom Riddle had forced upon him.

People change and that's OK. There was so much he would change. So many things he wished he could do over. If given the choice now he would help the Order at the drop of a hat. Give them all the information he could, spy, fight, defend and honor them all he could. But just like that night at the manor he had been too late, too weak and too scared.

People change and that's OK.

Maybe one day he would be changed, completely changed, a new man. And perhaps one day the wizarding world would think it was OK.


	2. Never Surrender

The return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been an odd one. He was never certain as he woke each morning as to whether he would be invisible to his peers or ogled at like a freak at a muggle circus. The first few days had been particularly painful. Everywhere he went he was hissed at, avoided as if he was infected with Scrofungulus and many, many people spat the word "Death Eater" at him like he was something lower then dirt. It was as if the world around him had become an amplified adaptation of his own mind. His opinion of himself was reinforced daily by everyone around him.

Death Eater scum. Murderer. Weak. Some of the muggle born students would whisper the word Nazi as he would pass them. He hadn't known what they had meant; it was a term he had never heard before however a quick trip to the library under the watchful eye of Madam Pince had given him the answer. As he had expected it wasn't a pleasant one. It seemed that even in the muggle world hate and segregation were a common occurrence. Just another example of how his father was wrong, of how Voldemort was wrong. It seemed that even in their worst moments, their fears and their violence, muggles and wizards were alike.

Although his peers made it clear he was unwelcome it was no match for the wrath of his fellow Slytherin's. Some days he was punished for following Voldemort, some days he was punished for defecting and some days he was simply punished. Never quick and always physical the attacks from his house mates never met the ears of a teacher or student outside of those dungeon walls. The boy Draco had once been would have been horrified at the way he simply laid down and accepted the curses, hexes and jinxes thrown at him by every one of his fellow housemates. But he still held his pride, soothed his wounds as his mother had taught him and applied glamour charms over his whole body. Only one mark could be seen and that was the one he tried the hardest to hide.

The Dark Mark would forever sit on his left arm burned into his pale flesh; a constant reminder of the pain and anguish that would follow him to his grave. It would take some time for Draco to turn that pain around and use it to empower a change. To see his Dark Mark as a sign of the person he would never be again, someone he would never allow his children to become; he would never become like his father, power hungry and blinded by hate.

So every day became a routine of punishment, alienation and work. He lost himself in his studies and worked incredibly hard to get his grades to the highest level and it didn't go unnoticed. Professor McGonagall had risen to the role of headmistress and took great pride in her positions of Head of Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor house and Headmistress of Hogwarts School. She had been worried about her decision to invite Draco Malfoy back not knowing if he would cause trouble, be trouble or face trouble. However she had been pleasantly surprised by his drive and determination to focus on his studies, although he never participated in answering questions or volunteered to demonstrate his abilities, his work was of the highest quality nearly enviable of Hermione Granger.

She was not unaware of the way he was treated in the hallways or in the Great Hall at meal times but dearly hoped that the students would begin to let him resettle within the school. It was not something she could control and she feared that her interference would only make it worse. It was not until the fourth week of term on Halloween that she learnt of the true state of Draco's punishment, it had left her feeling horrified and ashamed of herself for her inability to see the truth of the situation.

The Slytherin's had been quiet of late. Draco didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He had gone two days without a slaughtering from his housemates and it left him feeling worried and with good reason. When he awoke on the morning of Halloween he found his dorm room empty. That in its self should have been warning enough, the boys that he shared with were lazy and sloppy and they should have all still been sleeping. He dressed and gathered his workbooks for the day as quickly as he could. He had had to place several concealment charms on all of his belongings to keep them safe from the others as he had quickly learned that his personal belongings were an easy target to his house mates.

When he made his way out to the common room what he was met with shook him to the core. He was surrounded by students at the ready, the youngest at the back watching, some scared beyond belief, and others with glee in their eyes. Suddenly curses and jinxes were flying at him from every direction, within seconds he was thrown against the wall, his arms legs and chest were sliced open over and over again, bruises were starting to form and he was starting to lose consciousness. He fought and struggled to stay awake knowing if he passed out there was a chance he wouldn't wake up again so he held on for dear life until finally he was left to lay in a puddle of his own blood and tears.

He lay on the common room floor sobbing for a long while. The pain was almost too much. There had been a moment where he had truly contemplated just slipping off to sleep. It was so tempting to just give up; it was getting too hard to fight the entire world. In the back of his head Draco could hear his father's bitter laughter getting enjoyment from his struggle. He snapped. He was not giving in to his father; he had to prove him wrong.

It took all of his strength to heal the damage that had been done. His body was weak from blood loss and his limbs sore with the never ending onslaught they had been receiving. His glamour charms were weak but they would have to do. By the time he had changed clothes and made it out of the dungeons it was too late for breakfast, class would be starting at any moment. It took a while but he made it up to the transfiguration classroom. McGonagall would not be pleased. He was at least ten minutes late.

Knocking on the classroom door was nerve racking, the class fell silent and he could hear the clicking of McGonagall's shoes on the stone floor. With a snap of the door McGonagall was standing in front of him. Her sharp eyes stared him down for just a moment, he knew she could see straight through him as her eyes softened.

"Mr Malfoy. Take your seat and come see me at the end of class."


	3. The First Lesson

"Mr Malfoy-" He hated when people called him that. Why did no one call him by his first name? Mr Malfoy was his father. "What is the reason for your late attendance to my class this morning?"

"I'm sorry professor." Had it really been that long since he had spoken? The voice that came from his chest didn't even sound like his own. It was harsh, rough and strained. It was hard to tell if it was from lack of use or from the pain of this morning's Slytherin slaughter session. "It won't happen again."

"Draco- " That was better. "Sit down boy you look as if you are about to faint."

He didn't need to be asked twice.

"You didn't answer my question."

How was he going to get out of this one? "I'm sorry professor I wasn't feeling one hundred percent. It isn't a good excuse but it is the only one I have."

"It's clear that you aren't feeling one hundred percent Draco but I am led to believe you are hiding from me the reason why. I know a glamour charm when I see one and you have several. Remove them please."

"Please professor, my appearance is one of the only things I have left going for me. That's the only reason I 'glamoured' up" He didn't even know why he had said it.

McGonagall actually looked like she was going to laugh; instead all he got was a raised eyebrow.

"A good excuse but not good enough for me. If you won't do it I will do it for you."

He hung his head in defeat, with a swish of his wand the glamour charms were removed to reveal skin marred with scars and bruises. Barely an inch of pale skin was left untouched. All that was heard was McGonagall's sharp intake of breath.

"Merlin boy who did this to you?"

Through blood shot and bruised eyes Draco looked into the eyes of his professor, someone he had never thought twice about. Someone whom he was sure had never thought twice of him. Why was she doing this? Did she want him to be even more ashamed?

"I was not welcomed back kindly to Slytherin house this year Professor McGonagall. This has been their way of expressing it."

Draco had been trying to keep this a secret for as long as he could, he knew that the Professors, especially McGonagall did not think highly of him. He expected this to be the point in which she would tell him to toughen up and grow up. Experience had shown him that no pride is taken in expressing pain; the Dark Lord himself had uttered those words to him whilst Draco endured several rounds of the cruciatus curse. When Voldemort had finally gotten bored of his torturing, Draco's mother had frantically tried to get him to stand up; he could still remember the sound of his father's cane on the drawing room floor and each click it made with each step he took until he stood over him. With one painful blow to his ribs Lucius had spat the words "Get up. You are making me look a fool Draco."

What McGonagall said next was not what he had been expecting, "When I sent you your letter of acceptance this year Draco it was not in hope that you would suffer torture at the hands of your class mates every day. Far from it I will have you know. However I did have worries as to the nature of your return. The war has changed all of us, some for the better and some for the worse, how was I to know the effect it would have on you? So imagine my surprise when a quiet and reserved young man stepped into my classroom, worked diligently and successfully to the best of his ability and caused no trouble to anyone at all."

At this point Draco was stood in wonder. Did McGonagall know who she was talking to? Was she aware of the last seven years at all?

"You can act as shocked as you like Mr Malfoy but up until today your behavior this year has been dare I say it, admirable. Had I known the extent of the bullying you were receiving I would have put a stop to it weeks ago. I am sorry for that. I can however ensure that it does not continue. When you leave this room I want you to go straight to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, I will inform her of your attendance, she will restore you back to perfect health in record time I have no doubt. This evening I will ask that you come and see me in my office and I will escort you to your new rooms. Do not fret only the staff and you will know the location and I will have your things moved there immediately without any disturbance to any Slytherin student. In return I fully expect your good behavior to continue and your respect of the school rules to remain firm; If not there will be consequences. Now quickly off with you to the hospital wing."

Draco didn't quite know what to do. The rush of relief came and went very quickly, it had been flooded by confusion and emotions he didn't understand. The only thing he knew was that the torture was over; the physical pain would be over and for that he was thankful. All he could do was nod in return. He didn't have words at this point, what could he say?

It was only when he got to the door he remembered, "Professor my belongings have been placed under concealment charms. The house elves won't be able to find them."

McGonagall simply smiled, "Don't underestimate the skills of house elves Mr Malfoy."

He had learnt that lesson a long time ago.


	4. Recovery

**Authors Notes: **Sorry guys just a short one today!

Draco's experience in the hospital wing had been odd. Madam Pomfrey barely uttered a word to him the entire day but as promised his wounds were healed and all damage undone. The medi-witch had had a hard time concealing her concern of Draco's presence, which combined with his disturbing lack of winging made for some awkward encounters. He had not stepped foot in this part of the castle since the night of Albus Dumbledore's death and found that many memories were flooding back to haunt him.

Shame was the main feeling he was bombarded with; for his attention seeking behavior after quidditch matches and his lack of respect for Madam Pomfrey. But those weren't the worst. There were his memories of sneaking in to steal dreamless sleep potion, a luxury which his father had never let him have the benefit of. In his sixth year he had relied heavily on it for a time, with the ever growing cloud of doom that was Voldemort shadowing his every move, sleep had become a precious commodity. Draco had taken advantage of everyone's belief that he had Crabbe and Goyle to do his dirty work, therefore no one ever expected him to be the thief of such an addictive potion.

When Potter had attacked him in the girl's bathroom he could feel everything collapsing around him. He was about to be found out, Potter had figured it out and there was nothing he could do about it; he would be caught, his mother would be killed for his stupidity and all his hard work would be for nothing. His world changed again when the Sectumsempra had hit his chest, he had been oddly flooded with relief, and perhaps he had found a way out after all; how funny that it should be at the hands of Potter of all people. He would die there on the bathroom floor and he was OK with that.

But once again he had woken up in the hospital wing, fully recovered and without escape. Those were the worst memories of this place, the last few nights before Dumbledore's death. Laying awake for days on end waiting for the inevitable moment in which his soul would be broken and the beacon of hope for so many people would be extinguished. When he thought about it now it made no sense that he would be so calm about dying at the hand of Harry Potter the chosen one, his enemy and bane of his existence for many years. But the thought of dying at the hands of the Dark Lord struck him with so much fear. So much so that he tried desperately to follow through with his task. Was he scared of the torture Voldemort would accompany with his death? Perhaps he was scared of the brutal unending pain of the crucuiatus curse? Or was it the shame? To be surrounded by Death Eaters laughing at his lifeless body. His father laughing at his lifeless body. Maybe.

When it came to his father Draco was no longer a fool. His defection from Voldemort had not been for the protection of his family. It was simply fear that drove Lucius to run. Fear for his life and his life alone. Years of beatings, emotional abuse and not a drop of love could not and would not be forgotten by his father's sudden realization that he had been wrong. Lucius had held his power over Draco for his entire life but not anymore. His reign had ended on the day of his trial. Lucius had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, he would remain there until the day he died. What a relief.

When he was finally released from the hospital wing at the end of the day he had missed dinner in the great hall, instead having to eat on his bed. Madam Pomfrey had sent McGonagall notice that he was on his way and so that is where he went. He had never been in the head masters office, not even when Umbridge had been headmistress so he had no idea what to expect. For a moment there it looked like he wasn't going to know anyway as it was clear to him, that he had no idea what the password was.

"Sherbet Lemon." There was McGonagall. "Good timing Mr Malfoy, I have just come from a staff meeting and it only jut occurred to me that you didn't know the password. Never mind up you come I want to talk to you about a few things first."

He could handle the spiraling staircase, the thousands of beautiful objects that adorned every shelf and every table, the mountains of books and the cupboard full of memories. What he could not handle was as he sat down and looked into the glowing blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore. Painting or not the eyes of Dumbledore haunted him on a daily basis and to have them once again smiling down on him chilled him to the core.

"Hello Draco." The greeting came not from Dumbledore but the portrait next to him, a man with black oily hair shrouding his face and a hook nose to shame all others. Severus Snape.


	5. Knowledge is Power

"Professor Snape. It has been a long time." As one would expect, the situation Draco found himself in was quite odd. It was not his first interaction with someone he had known to die, come to life in a portrait but it was his first with someone he had spent so much time with. When Draco had been a small boy his grandfather Abraxas Malfoy had passed away. He had been a grumpy and vile man, like what he imagined his father would be should he live to be as old as him. Wrinkled, grumpy and unable to walk he had never spent much time with him but whenever he did he would always speak of 'a better time' constantly talking of 'Mudbloods' and 'Blood Traitors', when he grew up it was clear to Draco where his father had learnt his prejudice. It was some weeks after his death that his grandfather's portrait had appeared in the main hall. Although still an unpleasant man, it was fair to say that death suited Abraxas Malfoy quite well. He would remain in his stately home for all of eternity should the world last that long and that suited him just fine.

Something made Draco think that Severus Snape would not sit happily in the Headmasters office of Hogwarts School for all of eternity. He still held a bitter and miserable look on his face, come to think of it not that much different to that of his grandfather's pre Dragon Pox.

"I was surprised to hear you had returned to Hogwarts. Surely you have more entertaining things to do at home."

"Yes. Well. Home is not what it once was."

"I see. So you ran back to Hogwarts."

"I did not run."

"So your mother told you to come back?"

"No."

There was that eyebrow. Why were so many people raising their eyebrows at him lately? What was he getting at?

"I was made to believe your father was in prison. I did not realize he was still in contact with you."

"I do not speak with him! If you must know I returned to Hogwarts of my own accord. I did not run and neither did I return with joy in my step! If you want me to talk to you about my father then you are in for a nasty treat. I do not speak with him and I do not want to speak with him and that is all I have to say on the subject. If that is all, I will be going." Draco was enraged. After everything he had been through and how hard he was trying it seemed that all anyone would ever think of him was of his father. He was the son of a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater. Death Eater scum. Draco Malfoy, Death Eater scum.

"Sit down boy." It seemed that Severus Snape was surprised. This was a first.

Draco fell back into his chair, angry and unamused.

"There are many things I want to talk to you about and your father will not be one of them. I have a few things to tell you and you will sit down and listen to them."

It was now Draco's turn to raise an eyebrow. By this time he was completely unaware of Professor McGonagall's exit from the room. He was however mildly aware of Dumbledore's eyes still smiling amusedly from the frame opposite Snape.

"What is it you have to tell me?"

"Firstly tell me why you are here, back at Hogwarts."

With a sigh he said the words, "Because I have nowhere else to go. My home is a used torture chamber and the entire wizarding world wants to torture me. Merlin! Everyone here wants to torture me and I let them!"

Snape's eyebrow rose ever so slightly higher. "I see. Then it is only fair I tell you the truth."

"Tell me the truth about what?" He couldn't help but be concerned.

"Everything."

Hours later Draco emerged from the headmistress's office in a state of shock. He and Snape had discussed many things. That Snape had worked for the order all along, Dumbledore was always going to die anyway, the Dark Lord had made several horcruxes in which he had stored broken bits of his soul, one of which had resided in Potter. He could be forever sure now that Voldermort would never return, of that they were sure. That Dumbledore had obviously known everything about Draco's actions in sixth year and the one thing out of everything that shocked Draco the most, that Severus Snape was proud of him.

For everything from refusing to turn Potter in when they had arrived at the manor to the decision to return to Hogwarts to Draco's unforseen realization that blood purity was pointless. Severus Snape was proud of him. What a bizarre concept. In fact everything he had just been told was bizarre. He wasn't quite sure he would ever come to terms with all of it.

McGonagall walked him without a word to his new private dorm room, never questioning him, leaving him in peace when she granted him entrance. He never quite knew how he made his way to bed or if he had even slept that night at all. He did know that even though he had found comfort in the company of dead men, the burden that lay on his back felt just a tiny bit lighter and that in itself was worth more than his family names weight in gold.


End file.
